


Afterword

by Skywalker



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywalker/pseuds/Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inaho and Slaine arrange a foursome to scratch Slaine's submissive itch. Post-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested this on /a/ months ago and I just now wrote it. It hasn't been proofread and it might never be proofread.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Inaho, slipping the gag between Slaine’s lips. His voice is steady as always, but the last few years of Inaho serving as commander of the Imperial Guard have given Slaine a sense for the slight shifts in his tone. Inaho is over-enunciating slightly to cover for the slight breathiness of his voice, and there’s a pink flush sliding up his neck. “He doesn’t give directions in bed anyway.”

Slaine glares at Inaho and tries to protest, both at the characterization and at Inaho’s calmly clinical appraisal, but it comes out wordless and incomprehensible. Over Inaho’s shoulder, Saazbaum glances sidelong at Cruhteo. “Where could he have picked that up?” he asks blandly. Cruhteo’s pale eyes narrow and his chin lifts fractionally; his regret is as hard to pick out as Inaho’s desire, but Slaine can spot it even beneath the layers of pride and stubbornness. 

“Don’t heckle him,” says Inaho, unruffled, briskly unbuttoning his own heavy coat. Slaine blinks; it still catches him by surprise every time he hears Inaho casually tell Versian nobles what to do. He isn’t rude, exactly, but there’s no deference or formality to his phrasing.

Cruhteo looks as irritated at Inaho as he does at Saazbaum, but Saazbaum has never shown any sign of being bothered by Inaho’s boldness. “My apologies,” he offers, though his mouth quirks into a slight smile. “But whatever you’re planning, I’m sure you can find better help than a pair of dirty old men.”

Slaine is still bad at reading Saazbaum when his voice gets that deliberately careless; Inaho ignores the insincere lightness altogether. “Maybe,” he says, stripping methodically out of his uniform pants, “but they might talk afterward.” He raises a finger, counting. “You won’t, because it doesn’t help you to undermine him.” A second finger. “And I know you want him.” A third. “And you owe him.” Slaine and Inaho have gone over these reasons before, but it still sounds strange to hear them spoken so boldly. Saazbaum shrugs faintly; presumably he doesn’t see the point of denying it in front of Cruhteo and Slaine. 

But Cruhteo’s jaw clenches for a moment as he looks at Inaho. “I have no obligation to _you_.”

Inaho nods, unbothered by Cruhteo’s haughtiness. He straddles Slaine with practiced ease, back to the counts, and slips a finger under Slaine’s chin. Slaine looks up obediently, and Inaho raises an eyebrow. Hidden from the counts’ view by Inaho’s slender shoulders, Slaine nods his own wordless affirmation. Inaho stays still for a moment, then leans forward, rubbing their stiffening cocks together. Slaine moans audibly into the gag and throws back his head as Inaho wraps a hand around them. From the corner of his eye, he can see quiet Inaho biting his lip, chest rising and falling fast as he starts to breathe heavily. Inaho pulls away to the side a minute later, giving the counts a clear view of Slaine, pink-cheeked and half-hard on the edge of the bed. “You can think of it as only doing it for him, if you want,” he says, level but over-enunciating again. “I’m just helping.”

Saazbaum is openly appraising, looking from Slaine to stubborn Inaho, and Slaine knows that they have him. Cruhteo looks less certain, but Slaine expected that. Even if Inaho weren’t here – and Slaine would never wade back into this old territory without Inaho at his side – Cruhteo would be tricky. Apologies have been made, acceptances given, but the words are all insufficient to set those years of abuse right, and Slaine knows that just hearing the words isn’t enough. _I want to be worthy of your forgiveness._ And it’s messier than all that, because logically Slaine shouldn’t want anything to do with Cruhteo, but he’s never hated him, and still doesn’t hate him, and lately he can’t stop fantasizing about large, familiar, relentless hands pinning him down, spreading him wide… 

Being in a position of having to seduce and reassure Cruhteo is new, but will be worth it if it works. 

He catches Cruhteo’s eyes for a moment, then flicks his gaze to the ornately twisted braid at Cruhteo’s lapels that marks a member of the Imperial Household; those little knots are a careful physical sign of trust and forgiveness. And Slaine spreads his legs slightly, not enough to be completely vulgar but enough to whisper as his skin tugs at the heavy bedding, because this is about invitation and wanting, too. 

Cruhteo pauses a few moments longer, then sighs quietly and crosses the room, sinking to one knee between Slaine’s legs. It takes a heartbeat for Slaine to realize why the motion is familiar; by then, Cruhteo has already caught Slaine’s hand and lifted it to his lips. It would be chaste – Cruhteo’s lips barely brush against Slaine’s skin, and his grip is respectfully soft – except for the fact that Slaine is completely naked and stiffening just from imagining the possibility of those lips and hands sliding over the rest of his body. He swallows hard, and knows that he’ll never be able to think about Cruhteo’s second investiture the same way again. The count looks up, watching Slaine’s expression carefully, and tightens his grip on Slaine’s hand. Slaine shivers as Cruhteo kisses against the pads of his fingertips, licks against the pads of his fingertips. This reverential gentleness is unsettling and just not enough. He squirms needily, because he’s been fucked enough to know that expressing desperation usually gets Cruhteo going, and is relieved to find that the trick still works years later. Cruhteo lingers on Slaine’s fingers a second more before lowering his hands to spread Slaine’s thighs wide. Slaine whimpers at the old familiar gesture, heart beating rabbit-fast. Inaho presses comfortingly against his back, resting his head on Slaine’s shoulder to peer over at Cruhteo. Slaine takes a moment to nuzzle against his cheek reassuringly, but keeps his wide eyes fixed on the count. Cruhteo pauses at Inaho’s intrusion, lips thinning, but he’s far too prideful to back down. Finally, finally, he bows his fair head, licking down the length of Slaine’s cock. Slaine gasps and clenches his fingers tight in the duvet. The tight grip on Slaine’s thighs might be the same, but this level of solicitude in bed is new – ah, but he isn’t a Terran dog anymore, and there’s all that apology and regret hanging in the air between them. 

Of course things wouldn’t be the same.

He tries to relax and enjoy it as Cruhteo swallows him down; the count has clearly done this to _someone_ before, even if he’s never sucked Slaine off. He does finicky little things against the underside of Slaine’s cock and pinches at the tight muscles of Slaine’s thighs, and the whole thing is so wet and tight and hot that Slaine can barely stop himself from squirming between Cruhteo and Inaho. But in this position, there are too many options – he could fist his hands in Cruhteo’s hair and push him lower, or stop fighting the urge to thrust into the count’s mouth, or reach back and draw Inaho into this somehow.

Too many options if he wanted to take control, that is. But he’s had enough of that outside this room.

He nudges Inaho slightly. It’s an almost imperceptible shift of his shoulder, but Inaho is pressed close enough to feel it. A moment later, Inaho’s hands clasp against Slaine’s wrists, clamping them tight together and pulling them over Slaine’s head. Inaho pushes him down against the bed, stretching him out long and vulnerable. Slaine luxuriates in the sudden shift, at being pinned and prone between Cruhteo’s grip on his thighs to Inaho’s grip on his wrists. The bed dips, and Saazbaum is there a beat later, nipping against the exposed skin of Slaine’s hipbones and slipping his hands underneath Slaine to skitter along the length of his spine. Inaho leans down to kiss against the crook of Slaine’s neck. He’s gloriously cocooned between the three of them, barely able to move enough to arch into Cruhteo’s mouth as the count swirls his tongue excruciatingly slowly around the tip of Slaine’s dick. His breath comes in hoarse groans as he gets closer and closer to coming, and Inaho grips tighter, possessive, against his wrists. Slaine doesn’t struggle, only lifts his head to give Inaho better access to the soft skin of his neck. These bites and bruises will all be hidden under high, constricting collars tomorrow; tonight, he’s content to use Inaho’s tight grip as an anchor as he comes in Cruhteo’s warm mouth with a shout, his brain rushing into electric, overwhelming mindlessness. 

But Inaho’s fingers slacken and unwind before Slaine’s body has fully unclenched, and the mattress and sheets shift with unexpected movement. Shaky and surprised, Slaine props himself up on his elbows to see Inaho sliding off the bed to straddle Cruhteo’s lap. Before the count can react, Inaho leans in, clasping Cruhteo’s face in his hands and leaning into kiss him. From this angle, Slaine can’t see much of Inaho’s face, but Cruhteo’s expression shifts from surprise to anger to stubborn irritation; out of the corner of his eye, Slaine sees Saazbaum’s tiny smirk of suppressed amusement. Cruhteo lifts a hand to the nape of Inaho’s neck to reassert control, and for a moment their kiss seems to deepen. But then Inaho reaches back to push Cruhteo’s hand away and turns to look at Slaine. His expression is calm and almost blank, but his face and neck are flushed pink and there’s a thin trail of Slaine’s cum dripping down his chin. He makes a show of swallowing visibly, and Slaine’s jaw almost drops. The square set of Inaho’s shoulders and the intensity of the way he’s watching Slaine remind Slaine, incongruously, of the way Inaho looks before a fight. 

Or not a fight, precisely, but a challenge –

Slaine’s breath catches, and he sits upright, startled. Inaho’s chin tilts up, a tiny show of pride, before he turns back to Cruhteo. “We should give him something to watch,” he says, tugging off Cruhteo’s cravat. The over-enunciation is still there, but his voice is astoundingly steady for someone naked and stripping an imperial count, “until he’s ready to go again.”

Cruhteo looks past Inaho to Slaine, who realizes too late that he’s been staring in open fascination and that a flush is creeping up his neck. Beside him, Saazbaum’s smile widens. “You can handle the Lord Commander, Cruhteo,” he says genially, though Slaine is certain that he’s just egging Cruhteo on. 

But, whether it’s because of Slaine’s obvious interest or Saazbaum’s note of challenge, Cruhteo refocuses his attention on Inaho, settling his hands on Inaho’s hips as Inaho continues unfastening that double-row of uniform buttons. It’s mesmerizing to watch Inaho in that customary spot in Cruhteo’s lap – the tableau is alien and familiar at the same time, like watching himself through a broken mirror. Inaho is straight-backed and steady where Slaine would have leaned in flush against Cruhteo’s cock; agonizingly slow and intent on every button where Slaine would have rushed through undressing by muscle memory; pressing steadily forward where Slaine would have waited to react. And Cruhteo is different too – warier, perhaps. He watches Inaho almost suspiciously, and his hands glide purposefully but not painfully tight over the curve of Inaho’s thighs. It makes sense; it’s one thing for a count to scratch red welts onto a Terran servant, and another for the head of the princess’ household to manhandle the commander of the imperial guard.

But the fact that it makes sense doesn’t make it any less fascinating to watch, especially when Inaho gets all those coat and vest and shirt buttons undone and Cruhteo casts the top half of his uniform aside. There’s a whole patchwork of new scars crisscrossing that once-familiar torso; they seem to catch even Inaho by surprise, because he pauses a moment before planting his hands firmly on the count’s chest and pushing Cruhteo’s back against the soft, dark carpet. 

Slaine has to tear his eyes away for a moment, because Saazbaum’s arms are slipping around his own chest, drawing Slaine into his lap. He’s almost hard, and his cock presses against the cleft of Slaine’s ass through the heavy fabric of his uniform. Slaine is about to protest from behind the gag when Saazbaum rests his chin on Slaine’s shoulder, the same way Inaho had done a few minutes before, and Slaine realizes that Saazbaum is as interested in watching Inaho and Cruhteo as Slaine is. Slaine relaxes slightly as Saazbaum’s hands run lazily over Slaine’s lanky limbs, and returns his attention to Inaho’s strange show. 

Small, wiry Inaho is stretched over Cruhteo’s stocky frame, patiently and studiously tracing Cruhteo’s patchwork of scars underhand. He seems intent on exploration more than anything else, mapping out the contours of Slaine’s old life with his slender fingers as though he has all the time in the world. When Cruhteo moves to sit up and take hold of Inaho’s arms a few minutes later, to shift into a less prone position, Inaho pulls away with a disapproving frown and pushes Cruhteo down again. Cruhteo’s eyes narrow icily, and Slaine sees his muscles tense as though he’s about to flip Inaho over and pin him to the floor. Slaine’s eyes go wide again; for two whole years of Slaine’s life, Cruhteo was authority and force incarnate, someone to yield to without question, and even now Slaine bends a little more pliantly against Saazbaum just at the sight of Cruhteo’s irritation. But Inaho is forceful too, in his own way, willing to bend where Cruhteo won’t in order to stay in control. He cuts off Cruhteo’s counteroffensive by leaning forward to press his mouth against the count’s and grind his ass in Cruhteo’s lap. Cruhteo lets out a muffled grunt of surprise, then dips his head to bite hard against Inaho’s neck. It looks hard enough to mark the skin, but Inaho stays silent except for a sharp inhalation. His brows are knit in concentration, and his face is still more curious and studious than anything else. 

Saazbaum chuckles in Slaine’s ear. “The Lord Commander is an impressive choice,” he murmurs, too soft for Inaho or Cruhteo to hear, and his thumb circles slowly around Slaine’s nipple. Slaine squirms underhand, and Saazbaum’s other hand dips lower, fingers ghosting over Slaine’s thighs without brushing against his cock. Inaho wraps his hand in Cruhteo’s fair hair and guides his mouth lower, to his collarbone; Saazbaum places an echoing kiss on Slaine’s shoulder and scrapes his teeth lightly against Slaine’s earlobe. Slaine bites the inside of his cheek to muffle a moan, unwilling to do anything to distract Inaho when Inaho’s ass is flexing like that as he presses against Cruhteo. “However… something tells me this wasn’t his idea.” One of Saazbaum’s hands knots suddenly, powerfully, in Slaine’s hair, yanking his head back; the other folds across Slaine’s chest, pinning him in place. Slaine’s cock stiffens in a heartbeat, and he barely strangles down a groan. “How long have you been planning this?” Too long, embarrassingly long; Slaine is thankful for the excuse of the gag. Saazbaum drops his hand from Slaine’s hair to wrap around his waist, resting on Slaine’s hipbone before moving slowly lower, lower, lower… “You really are remarkable, your Imperial Majesty.” 

Slaine shudders slightly at the pure incongruity of his title rolling off Saazbaum’s tongue while the count has him naked and panting in his lap, but Saazbaum doesn’t give him time to dwell on it. The count coils tighter around Slaine and finally wraps his hand around Slaine’s cock; Slaine is nearly hard and thrusting into Saazbaum’s hand in just a few quick pumps. Saazbaum’s other hand alternates between circling and pinching at Slaine’s nipples, but the most delicious part, the part that has Slaine completely aroused again, is just the firmness of Saazbaum’s arms, pinning Slaine in place so completely that there’s really nothing to do but struggle to stay quiet and let Saazbaum toy with him. Saazbaum is as physically domineering as Cruhteo, in his own way; he gives fewer orders, but he’s utterly shameless where Cruhteo is dignified, and has a knack for stringing Slaine out into a needy wreck who’ll do anything for a little more contact. Their methods are different, but the end result was always the same, with Slaine yielding and pliant. Inaho is more likely to turn out like Saazbaum than Cruhteo, he thinks blearily. He’s at least as good as good at ferretting out Slaine’s weak points, and he’s growing into his physical and political power –

It’s the thought of Inaho toying with him this relentlessly that finally rips a hoarse groan from Slaine’s throat. Inaho – the real, panting, beautiful Inaho – shifts focus in an instant, whipping around and taking Slaine and Saazbaum in with fierce, narrowed eyes. Slaine, embarrassed, shakes his head slightly to reassure him, but Inaho just looks mistrustfully at Saazbaum. Slaine has a horrible suspicion that Saazbaum is still smiling behind his shoulder, because Cruhteo looks suspicious too, and perhaps slightly annoyed that Saazbaum has been monopolizing Slaine. 

Inaho finally stirs into action, standing with a quick tug on Cruhteo’s wrist in a silent order for the count to follow. It’s a quintessentially Inaho tactic; Cruhteo has to either obey or sit half undressed – and when did Inaho undo Cruhteo’s pants? – on the floor. Inaho scoops a tube of lubricant from his own discarded jacket before settling on the bed in front of Slaine, with Cruhteo sitting heavily beside him. Slaine leans forward in anticipation, spreading his legs slightly, but to his surprise, Inaho presses the lubricant into Cruhteo’s hands and shifts onto all fours, so that his face is just below Slaine’s. Cruhteo looks as startled as Slaine feels, but Inaho ignores both of their uncertainty. “Keep going,” he says, stretching cat-like so that his ass is tilted up toward Cruhteo. 

Slaine is fairly sure that Cruhteo sees this as some sort of submission, because the count looks less irritated as he uncaps the tube and presses a slick finger into Inaho’s. But Inaho still looks reasonably composed as he bites his lip and adjusts to Cruhteo’s fingers, even thoughtful. Slaine reaches a hand out to brush Inaho’s cheek inquisitively; Inaho looks up and Slaine realizes that he looks studious more than anything else, as though he’s filing away Cruhteo’s technique for later reference. If he is – Slaine bucks uncontrollably into Saazbaum’s hand again at the idea. 

Inaho raises a brow, then winces minutely as Cruhteo slips another in his ass and scissors it wide. Saazbaum reaches to slip a finger lightly under Inaho’s chin, then leans over Slaine’s shoulder to kiss Inaho. Inaho takes a heartbeat before stretching forward to kiss back. Slaine groans quietly as they press against him, feeling neglected even though he’s caught between them, with Inaho’s bare, slick chest against his and the smooth, familiar feel of Saazbaum’s uniform against his back. Saazbaum runs a thumb over the head of his cock indulgently, and Inaho’s hand joins Saazbaum’s a moment later. Slaine drops his head against Inaho’s shoulder blissfully and grinds against Saazbaum’s lap, wondering if he can get Saazbaum to fuck him while Cruhteo is fucking Inaho. Cruhteo is slipping his fingers out of Inaho now, and Inaho pulls away from Saazbaum with a tiny, expectant inhalation. He settles his face in the crook of Slaine’s neck; Slaine can’t figure out why, at first, but when Cruhteo’s cock pushes into the tight ring of Inaho’s ass, Inaho bites down on Slaine’s shoulder, muffling a drawn out groan. Slaine laces his fingers in with Inaho’s; Inaho grips back tight and possessive, and Slaine nuzzles against Inaho’s cheek again as Cruhteo’s hands settle around Inaho’s hips and begins to thrust. 

Gradually, Inaho’s grip on Slaine’s hand relaxes. He pulls away from Slaine completely for a few moments, his breath coming hot and fast against Slaine’s shoulder, but not pained or stressed as Cruhteo’s pace increases. Then he reaches up, pulling the gag out of Slaine’s mouth and letting it drop around his neck. “Ina—” Slaine begins, concerned, but Inaho cuts him off with a finger on his lips. 

“Suck me.”

“Y – yes,” Slaine stammers, straining against Saazbaum’s arms to comply with the firmness of Inaho’s tone. Saazbaum lets him go without complaint, and Inaho shifts back against Cruhteo to give Slaine better access to his cock. And, god, he’s beautiful like this, rock hard and glistening with sweat and precum. Slaine lowers his head eagerly to take as much of Inaho as he can, tongue playing over the underside of Inaho’s cock while Cruhteo’s thrusts drive Inaho down his throat. He wants to make it wet and hot and good, to thank Inaho for going along with this. _I want to be worthy of your –_

Saazbaum almost breaks Slaine’s concentration by tracing a ring around Slaine’s asshole with a lube-slick finger; Slaine moans around Inaho’s cock in anticipation and raises his ass higher. Saazbaum is efficient but not ungentle, giving Slaine just enough time to adjust to each finger before adding another and lazily jerking him off. Inaho is becoming more demanding, too; he rests a hand on the back of Slaine’s head and pushes him lower, all the way to the balls, so that Slaine has to fight to relax and swallow deeper, but the sound of Inaho’s tiny gasp makes it more than worth it. Slaine recognizes the way Inaho’s breathing speeds up, and isn’t surprised when Inaho comes a few minutes later, shooting hard and fast into Slaine’s mouth. Slaine stays docilely in place until Inaho’s orgasm is finished, drinking down Inaho’s load, then pushes up to keep Inaho steady and upright. 

But, to his surprise, Inaho is in motion, sliding off Cruhteo’s cock; his movements are purposeful even if they are a little boneless and shaky. “Your turn,” he says, glancing from Slaine to Cruhteo. 

Slaine gulps. Inaho might be sweat-soaked and still panting as he moves to clear space between Slaine and Cruhteo, but his voice is serious and expectant. 

“The Lord Commander is spoiling you, Cruhteo,” Saazbaum drawls, twisting his fingers in Slaine. Slaine squirms and glances hopefully at Cruhteo. The count is, thankfully, watching Slaine’s body in open admiration, pale eyes roving from Slaine’s parted lips to Saazbaum’s fingers in his ass. Slowly, as though the gesture comes unnaturally to him, Cruhteo holds out a hand to Slaine. With a good-natured sigh, Saazbaum pulls out of Slaine and pushes him toward Cruhteo. Slaine takes Cruhteo’s hand nervously, and lets the count pull him into his lap for the first time in years. 

They don’t fit together as neatly as he remembers. In his memory, Cruhteo envelops him completely, overwhelmingly. Now he’s almost as tall as Cruhteo, and winds up looking down at Cruhteo as the count runs his hands over Slaine’s half-familiar body. Cruhteo has the same exploratory air that Inaho gave off earlier, cataloguing all the changes the last few years have brought. Slaine bends without being asked, offering Cruhteo’s mouth and fingers access to new planes of muscle and curves of flushed skin. Cruhteo is still being more hesitant than Slaine remembers or wants, so Slaine exaggerates his moans and the way he arches into Cruhteo’s touch, just a little, just to encourage him. Gradually, the count begins pressing harder against Slaine, as though muscle memory and desire are finally winning out over guilt and reverence. But it isn’t enough, not when Saazbaum’s fingers have been all over Slaine’s dick and ass; Slaine pushes closer against Cruhteo, so that their cocks grind together with every shift of their familiar-but-not bodies. Cruhteo groans quietly and his hands fall to Slaine’s hips, nudging Slaine upwards. He complies without hesitation, draping an arm over Cruhteo’s broad shoulders as Cruhteo positions his dick in the cleft of Slaine’s ass. Slaine’s breath comes fast and heavy, and he reaches a hand back to spread his asscheeks needily, just in case Cruhteo is having any last-minute doubts about fucking his emperor. 

It works. Cruhteo pounds into him hard enough to take Slaine’s breath away; his fingers curl against the count’s back, and he lets Cruhteo slam his hips up and down at a fast, steady speed. Cruhteo remembers Slaine’s body well enough that he settles into the right angle quickly, and Slaine shouts, undignified, as Cruhteo’s cock hits sensitive nerves. Shakily, Slaine reaches down to stroke his own cock in time with Cruhteo’s pace, relishing the way Cruhteo’s fingers dig into his flexing muscles. They press harder and harder as Cruhteo’s breath comes quicker in his recognizable build-up to orgasm, and Slaine responds in kind by clenching his fingers against Cruhteo’s solid shoulders. Cruhteo comes with a low moan, and Slaine shifts slightly to ride him through his orgasm, his clenching ass wringing out every drop. 

When Cruhteo’s breathing finally quiets, Slaine slides off him, dripping lube and cum and harder than ever. Inaho pads across the bed toward Slaine, and Slaine stretches a hand out to his face – but Saazbaum’s hand slips under the band of the gag dangling around Slaine’s neck as though it’s a collar. The count’s tug isn’t sharp enough to be painful, but it’s sharp and insistent, pulling Slaine to his knees on the ground at Saazbaum’s feet. Saazbaum pulls Slaine’s head up and whispers in his ear. “How far do you want this to go, your Imperial Majesty?” He smiles. “Or… how far will the Lord Commander let this go?” 

Saazbaum lets go of the gag and leans back, leaving Slaine speechless between his knees. Inaho is right; Slaine really doesn’t talk much in bed, and he wasn’t even good at articulating what he wanted when he discussed this beforehand with Inaho. Fortunately, Cruhteo raised him to be good with his tongue.

Slaine lowers his head and kisses the toe of Saazbaum’s boot.

It’s a role, but one that feels deliciously comfortable to slip into so long as Inaho is peering watchfully over Saazbaum’s shoulder again. Slaine flicks his tongue out tentatively, reacquainting himself with the bitter taste of polish as he kisses up the high boot shaft and then up Saazbaum’s long legs. Saazbaum is more indulgent of little tricks than Cruhteo, who usually wants to fuck Slaine and be done with it, and Slaine takes advantage of this additional room to maneuver. He undoes the buttons of Saazbaum’s trousers quickly, but breathes warm and needy over Saazbaum’s underthings before mouthing over the count’s covered dick. Saazbaum rubs the toe of his boot lightly against Slaine’s throbbing cock, and Slaine grinds into it with a shameless moan. 

“That’s too much,” Cruhteo protests.

Saazbaum slips a finger under Slaine’s chin to tilt his head up. “He’ll stop if he wants to,” he smiles, voice slightly husky. He reaches back and tangles his fingers loosely in Cruhteo’s hair, tugging the other count in for a quick kiss that does nothing to placate Cruhteo. Saazbaum cups his hand languidly around Cruhteo’s cheek and adds, “You weren’t worried about his dignity when he was on _your_ cock.” Cruhteo looks like he’s about to protest, but Saazbaum drops his hand to wrap leisurely around Cruhteo’s dick and leans to kiss him again, misdirecting Cruhteo’s annoyance. 

Inaho watches the counts for a moment, curious but dispassionate, before slipping to the floor besides Slaine, nestling close against him between Saazbaum’s thighs. “Too bossy,” he whispers, right in Slaine’s ear. Before Slaine can protest that this sort of authoritativeness is why they’re here, or point out that Inaho was playing Cruhteo the same way only minutes before, Inaho has shifted away and is pulling Saazbaum’s erection free of his underthings. Unhesitatingly, Inaho bends to take a long, slow lick up Saazbaum’s cock. For a moment, Slaine just marvels at him – heavy-lidded red eyes, flushed cheeks, self-assured – then hurries to mirror him, lapping eagerly from base to tip. Inaho leans over to kiss him, and Slaine kisses back before they break apart, panting, and return to sucking down Saazbaum’s cock. They’ve never had anyone to do this on before – the idea had never even entered Slaine’s mind – and they’re uncharacteristically clumsy about it, noses bumping awkwardly as they move to mouth over the same patch of skin. Inaho nudges Slaine a little higher, and Slaine obediently swallows down Saazbaum’s shaft, head bobbing as he sucks enthusiastically. 

Inaho’s fingers settle over Slaine’s neglected dick, too teasingly light for how hard Slaine is. Slaine whimpers against Saazbaum and melts against Inaho’s hot, sweaty body for a bit of additional sensation. Inaho grips tighter, jerking Slaine off slow and steady, but he slips off Saazbaum’s cock and settles behind Slaine, shifting Slaine onto his knees and lifting Slaine’s ass in the air. Slaine gasps as the tip of Inaho’s dick presses against his asshole. Inaho pushes hard into Slaine’s already slick, stretched ass, and Slaine lets out a deep, full-throated moan as Inaho ruts into him while jerking him off hard and fast and steady. With his mouth full of cock, he can just barely see Saazbaum toying with Cruhteo out of the corner of his eyes – Saazbaum still smiling as Cruhteo pulls him close and murmuring something too quiet for Slaine to hear – but then Inaho’s cock hits a nerve bundle and Slaine’s world narrows to slamming onto one cock and then another. Inaho knows his body too well and Slaine has been hard for too long; it only takes a few more thrusts before Slaine comes between Inaho’s fingers and slips off Saazbaum’s cock into Inaho’s arms, panting and blissfully dazed. 

Inaho gives him a few moments to recover, then nips lightly against Slaine’s ear to rouse him. Slaine can feel Inaho’s cock pressed against the small of his back, but is too comfortably boneless do to do anything about it. He murmurs a wordless protest and sinks more deeply against Inaho and the too-plush carpet; Inaho sighs and wraps his arms indulgently over Slaine, resting his chin on the top of Slaine’s head. “Your guests are ignoring you,” he observes quietly, and Slaine finally blinks his eyes open blearily to watch the counts on the bed. 

Saazbaum is straddling Cruhteo, stripping off layers of his uniform while Cruhteo runs his hands over Saazbaum’s bare thighs. There’s a strange tentativeness to Cruhteo’s otherwise forceful grasp that takes Slaine a moment to place – but, ah, it’s the same as Cruhteo was with Slaine, revisiting once-familiar contours. Slaine knows that they’ve fucked each other plenty when they were younger, and they certainly shared him before the war… but unless Slaine is very far off the mark, Cruhteo’s uncertainty means that they haven’t touched each other in years – not since Saazbaum gave Cruhteo those scars.

Not since Saazbaum gave Cruhteo those scars _to save me_ , Slaine thinks uncomfortably, tensing and hunching in on himself slightly. Inaho cranes his neck to look at Slaine quizzically. Slaine reaches for his hand to reassure him, but pauses halfway and lifts his fingers to Inaho’s face instead, brushing away the bangs that hide the red, raised scar just beside Inaho’s eye. Inaho tilts his head into Slaine’s hand, tolerating Slaine’s moment of melancholy. Slaine’s heart flutters, just a little, with a pang of the pure, almost childish appreciation that Inaho and Asseylum have kindled in him. _I want to live up to your forgiveness. I want to fulfill your dreams…_ He twists to sit up and face Inaho, kissing lightly at the familiar patch of scar tissue. Inaho allows this bit of mawkishness for a moment, then pulls away gently. “You can have me any time,” he notes, too low for the sound to carry to the counts, “but they’re going to finish without you if you keep this up.” Slaine can feel his cheeks going pink, despite the full-body flush already coloring his pale skin; Inaho smiles minutely. “How quickly do you think I can get you hard again?” 

Just the words make Slaine’s cock twitch. “Fast,” he says breathily, just a heartbeat before Inaho pushes him to the ground, back to the carpet and his thighs over Inaho’s shoulders. 

Inaho buries his face between Slaine’s legs, lapping up streaks of cum from Slaine’s thighs with broad, even licks, cleaning him up for another go. Slaine stiffens and gasps as Inaho lifts Slaine’s ass and licks him clean from asshole to balls; only Inaho’s strong hands keep him from bucking his hips into Inaho’s mouth. The shift of mattress springs and quiet cursing from above stir his curiosity, but from this angle he can only see the bedskirt, so he focuses his attention back on the glorious wet warmth of Inaho’s clever mouth. When Inaho swallows Slaine’s cock minutes later, drinking down the last of Slaine’s sticky cum, Slaine is fully hard again, moaning wantonly and fisting his fingers in the thick carpet. Inaho pulls off Slaine’s dick with a wet, shameless pop and rests his chin on Slaine’s hipbone proprietarily, lips curved in faint satisfaction. Then he wraps a hand around Slaine’s wrist and stands, pulling Slaine to his feet with him. “We’ll be rejoining you now,” he announces matter-of-factly, barely breathy, and slips his hand between Slaine’s asscheeks just as both counts pause to look at them.

And they _have_ been busy while Inaho was busy tonguing Slaine. Saazbaum has Cruhteo pinned to the mattress and is riding Cruhteo with what Slaine gauges to be maddening slowness. Saazbaum’s hair is a disheveled mess, and there are darkening red marks over neck and shoulders, but he looks even smugger than Inaho as he sinks languidly down Cruhteo’s cock, wringing a quiet, muffled groan from Cruhteo. “Welcome back,” he purrs, looking Slaine and Inaho up and down lasciviously. 

To Slaine’s surprise, Inaho settles onto the oversized bed lying face up, tilting his hips into the air. He turns his head expectantly to Slaine, who gulps and scrambles to obey the unspoken invitation – or is it an order? – by kneeling between Inaho’s thighs. Tentatively, he presses one finger, then another into Inaho’s ass; it’s already stretched wide and slick from Cruhteo fucking Inaho earlier. Inaho lifts his hips in a silent show of impatience, and Slaine hurries to grab his dick and position himself against Inaho’s ass. After he sinks the head of his cock in, it’s a struggle to not slam himself in to the hilt; Inaho’s ass is even tighter and warmer than his mouth, squeezing a breathless moan from Slaine’s lips and completely drawing his attention away from Cruhteo and Saazbaum. He pushes gently at first, and his first few thrusts are careful and slow, even though he wants to slam into Inaho until they’re both sore. Inaho encourages him to speed up by sitting up slightly and sliding his hands lower down Slaine’s back, over his ass, and then – Slaine yelps softly as Inaho scissors Slaine’s asshole open, not from discomfort but from pure surprise. 

Inaho turns his head toward the counts, his slipping composure evidence in the slight delay it takes him to form his words and the tiny quaver of his lower lip. “Aren’t you here for him?” he pants, spreading Slaine’s ass wider. 

Cruhteo props himself up on his elbows to watch them, even while Saazbaum keeps riding him. “You do make it tempting,” Saazbaum calls huskily, reaching a hand to squeeze the curve of Slaine’s ass as he slides off Cruhteo’s dick. “We’ll have to finish this later, Cruhteo.” He shifts across the bed and slips his fingers between Slaine’s asscheeks as Inaho drops his own hand; even after Inaho lapping at his ass, Slaine is still well-lubricated and stretched wide from Cruhteo and Inaho fucking him. It only takes a few thrusts for him to adjust to Saazbaum’s cock in his ass, and to start fucking into Inaho himself, pushing into Inaho’s shifting hips until Inaho bites down on his own arm to stifle a moan and Slaine knows that they have the right angle. Slamming between Saazbaum’s thick dick and Inaho’s tight ass might be the best he’s ever had it; he’s caught deliciously between their slick, sweaty bodies and panting shamelessly with every slap of balls against well-muscled flesh…

Cruhteo leans over to kiss Slaine, and Slaine kisses back needily, reaching to steady himself with a hand on Cruhteo’s broad, scarred shoulders. _You, too,_ he thinks hazily as his fingers slip over a particularly deep divot of scar tissue, parting his lips so that Cruhteo’s tongue can press deeper into his mouth. _I want to forgive and be forgiven. I want to keep all of you happy…_ Reluctantly, he pulls back from Cruhteo’s kiss, tilting his chin up to catch Cruhteo’s eyes. “You – you too,” he gasps, inhaling sharply as Saazbaum presses all the way into him again. Slaine licks his lips and glances down at Cruhteo’s cock hopefully. He has to look like a fucked-out mess, but that’s never stopped Cruhteo before, and Cruhteo _is_ so hard…

Blessedly, Cruhteo’s arousal wins out over any concerns the count might have about Slaine’s dignity. He moves to Inaho’s side so that Slaine can reach his cock by twisting slightly to the side; it’s not ideal, but it’s far from the least comfortable position Slaine has ever been in. And it’s worth it; Cruhteo’s dick is hot and throbbing as Slaine swallows it eagerly, and Cruhteo’s hand rests light but strong at the back of Slaine’s neck, pulling him lower. Slaine sucks him down as far as he can, head bobbing up and down as his own hips slam between Inaho and Saazbaum. The sensation of being completely filled, of being so completely fucked, is overwhelming; Saazbaum slams into him and Inaho’s ass clamps tight around Slaine and Cruhteo’s dick is hot and heavy on his tongue and Slaine is sliding shamelessly and mindlessly between their sweat-slick bodies –

Inaho comes first; he bites down on his own hand as he comes, but his strung-out gasp is still clear and audible. His slender body clenches in shifting waves around Slaine’s dick, so tight that Slaine loses Saazbaum’s rhythm completely and just slams as hard and fast as he can into Inaho’s quavering ass for the glorious if brief span of Inaho’s orgasm. Inaho’s ass is hot and tight enough to bring Slaine to orgasm only a little bit later. It rips through him like lightning, from Saazbaum’s dick to the tips of his fingers, sending a sizzling flash of heat over every inch of him and drowning out every part of his brain but the nerves screaming about how fucking good and stuffed and satiated his body is. Unlike Inaho, Slaine comes with a long, drawn-out shout that’s barely muffled by Cruhteo’s thick dick in his throat; if it weren’t for Cruhteo and Saazbaum’s steady hands, he would have dropped into a heap on top of Inaho, spent and content. 

But he _does_ have Cruhteo and Saazbaum to deal with. As Inaho slips out from under him to curl against Slaine’s side, Slaine shifts his hands to cup Cruhteo’s balls, sliding over them in time with the slick slurping of his curved lips on the shaft. Saazbaum is speeding up behind him, his fingers raking deep tracks in Slaine’s skin as he grips tighter and tighter at slippery skin and flexing muscles. Saazbaum’s hands grip painfully tight, then he buries himself to the balls in Slaine’s ass, panting heavily. 

When he pulls out, it’s just Cruhteo and Slaine. 

Slaine crawls forward slightly, curling comfortably between Cruhteo’s powerful thighs. Even after all these years, Slaine can still read Cruhteo’s body like a book, following orders to sink lower, speed up before Cruhteo can even vocalize them. 

_I want to keep all of you happy—_

The same desire that’s kept him on the uncomfortable imperial throne plays out here in miniature as Slaine bends and flexes to please. When Cruhteo finally comes, spurting thick and heavy down Slaine’s throat, he swallows down as much as he can, and doesn’t lift his head until he’s licked Cruhteo’s softening cock clean. 

When he looks up, his bed is a mess of sweaty, spent bodies. He glances from Cruhteo to Saazbaum, but they both seem – content, or as content as he’s ever seen them. They watch him carefully, but without wanting anything more from him, at least for tonight. Indeed, the only one demanding his attention is Inaho, wrapping a hand firmly around Slaine’s wrist. Slaine looks down, startled. Inaho’s bright eyes are heavy lidded and tired, and his grip is loose as he tugs Slaine down against the mattress. “That’s enough,” he says, pulling Slaine close. “You’ve done enough for now.” 

_I want to live up to your forgiveness—_

The beautiful thing, as Slaine lets Inaho draw him in tight, is that he believes Inaho completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Slaine slips into the big, empty bath next to Inaho – glad, for once, to have the echoingly large complex to themselves. Inaho rests his head on Slaine’s shoulder, and Slaine relaxes contentedly against him, the heat of the perfumed water and Inaho’s slim body lulling him into drowsiness. 

But not for too long.

“So that’s how you want it,” Inaho says contemplatively, not stirring from his place at Slaine’s side. 

Slaine fidgets for the right words, interlacing his fingers with Inaho’s restlessly. “Not always,” he says slowly, because he _does_ like the rest of it, too – fucking Inaho playful and rough in the privacy of Tharsis’s cockpit after a day of interminable meetings, fondling each other sweet and slow on a lazy morning, just sitting here comfortably in the dreamy warmth. He hunches in on himself, awkward in admitting it aloud even after they’ve meticulously fulfilled his nagging fantasy. “But… now and then…”

“Don’t be embarrassed about it.” Slaine is about to protest – that’s fine for Inaho to say; Slaine has never seen him embarrassed about anything – but Inaho moves across the marble bench to straddle Slaine, running his wet fingers through Slaine’s disheveled hair. “You spend enough time doing what Earth and Vers want. I don’t mind giving you what you want.” Inaho’s knee nudges Slaine’s thigh, and Slaine spreads his legs reflexively. Inaho’s stiffening cock brushes against the inside of Slaine’s leg, and a warm jolt shoots from the pit of Slaine’s stomach up his spine. “But I want something, too.”

“Anything,” says Slaine, suddenly breathless, reaching up to wrap his arms over Inaho’s shoulders. _I want to live up to your forgiveness._

Inaho pauses before responding; Slaine can almost hear the delicate clockwork pieces turning in his head, running through words and phrases. He doesn’t mind waiting; not when it’s for Inaho, not when they’re already twined around each other. “I want to be the only one,” he says, low and serious, resting his forehead against Slaine’s and cupping his hands around Slaine’s face, hands warm and steady. Slaine is distracted, again, by the thought of those firm hands growing stronger as they grow into their roles together. Slaine will use Aldnoah as best he can to rebuild the Earth, and Inaho will keep him alive long enough to see that dream fulfilled. “I don’t mind all the time you give to Vers.” Inaho’s hands drop, one settling at the small of Slaine’s back, the other curling around Slaine’s cock, slick in the perfume-oiled water. “But I want to be the only one – ” – his fingers tighten; Slaine arches into them – “ – who does this to you.”

Slaine squirms under Inaho’s hands, hands that will be more steady and forceful than the counts’ ever were now that Inaho knows what he wants sometimes, hands that know how to be playful and clever as well, hands that have kept him safe through these strange years of cajoling Vers and Earth into an unsteady peace. “Yes,” he moans, pressing flush against Inaho. _I want to live up to your forgiveness. I want to fulfill your dreams…_ And – wordlessly, he leans up to kiss Inaho, because there are still some things that he’s better expressing with his body than with words – _I want you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end.


End file.
